Obstruction by the Week
by Zaedah
Summary: Give a guy a minute to quit yawning before launching into an intervention.


**Obstruction by the Week**

**Week One: They want me to talk to them…**

Which is funny since my mouth usually gets me into trouble. It's not that Liz and Abe are upfront about it, but even I can get the hint. The new version of 'morning conversation' is a little creepy, if you ask me. The pair does this little covert nod thing and suddenly starts discussing the future over eggs. And not just any future. I wouldn't mind gossiping about the Bureau but they want me to explore my feelings. All that's missing is the Manilow. Awkward pauses are supposed to get me to jump into their conversation, which is usually the moment I shove a five inch stack of pamcakes into my face.

I talk plenty. But not while hot food is available. Give a guy a minute to quit yawning before launching into an intervention. Come on, you want me to share my feelings, give me a moving target and a really big gun. I'm not a complicated guy. I just don't see the point of brooding over a future we can't predict. If we could, there's a ton of stuff I'd have fixed already. And thinking too much about all that went wrong because I'm not psychic gives me a headache.

**Week Two: They ask me to talk to them…**

Covert is gone. All I want during our alone-time is a little… ya know. But apparently Liz decided that tongues are to be used for speaking in bed. I don't get that. She says she's here for me and supports me and we should talk more as a couple. Meanwhile I'm wondering if I can send an Elemental to Oprah's house. Abe tells me I shouldn't block them out, though their combined volume makes that impossible. I told him the only thing I'm blocking is that blasted Lifetime channel. God bless parental controls.

Abe's been talking about his princess a lot more and then giving me those…what're they called? Oh yeah, open-ended questions about love and differences. Hell, I'm blocking Dr. Phil too. How exactly does saying pansy stuff out loud make anyone feel better? Besides, I feel fine. I think they're missing that fact. But the whole 'fine' thing won't last if they keep this up. Sure I have doubts, maybe even fear, about the future. I got kids now, ya know? And I know the world they're gonna have to face eventually. Being different ain't no cakewalk. But talking about it won't fix that.

**Week Three: They talk to each other about me…**

Don't you hate it when people are whispering in a heads-down huddle until you walk in? Then they stop talking and start looking around like busted thieves. I mean, I'm the red handed one right? I've been catching them all week, which is quite a trick since I'm not known for my stealth. I'm not a 'hide behind the wall and listen' kinda guy but I do it anyway, hoping I'm too big a cat for curiosity to kill. And then I wish I hadn't.

Our kids ain't normal. Like I need eavesdropping to tell me that. I just don't think we should tell the babies that. Not yet anyway. Let them have a regular childhood here on the Irish cliffs with their lighter fluid mom, demonic dad and fishy uncle. The armchair shrinks want to make a plan for how and when and where to break the news about humans and their judgmental, ungrateful and plain stupid ways. I just wanna see them crawl and walk and talk. Okay, one's got a tail and one's kinda fuchsia but they don't know that's odd. I'm in no hurry for them to blame me for passing on my genes.

**Week Four: They quit trying to get me to talk…**

When I do finally talk, it's to my little ones. They're better listeners anyway. I tell them they're perfect. I pointed out all of their features, every one, and tell them they're beautiful. Mostly, though, I tell them about him. About his life, his beliefs, his stories. How he loves them. How proud he is. And I know he is because I talk to him all the time. I guess that's why I don't talk to Liz and Abe. I don't need to. Every concern, every worry I take to Pop. And his voice is clear in my head, sure as if he was standing behind me. Because he's said the words while on Earth, I can hear them from his place in heaven. I forgot how much wisdom he'd tried to pass on to me until now when I really need it. All those old conversations replay in my ear and I get what I need from them.

I think they've done a little eavesdropping of their own because the bed returns to a place where little talking gets done and breakfast is the source of food fights. Just like life's supposed to be. The twins have been alive a whole four weeks and haven't broken a damned thing yet. So there's hope. And Pop's grin is mine. Because I am father.


End file.
